CS - 80

After summer began, Lin Zhexia and Chi Yao soon approached their twentieth birthday.

In fact, Chi Yao’s birthday had already passed, but he decided to celebrate it together with her this year.

The main reason was that their birthdays were very close to each other. If they celebrated separately, they’d have to “go through the trouble” twice.

“To be honest, I’ve hit a creative block,” Lin Zhexia confessed honestly to him before his birthday. “Having celebrated your birthday so many times from childhood till now, I’ve racked my brains for several days this year and still haven’t come up with any fresh birthday plans.”

Fortunately, Chi Yao himself didn’t have much expectation for his birthday either.

So the two of them readily agreed to celebrate together.

Lin Zhexia cautiously asked, “How about skipping the gifts this year?”

Chi Yao raised an eyebrow: “Why?”

Lin Zhexia: “...I’m also stuck on the gift front.”

She thought Chi Yao would agree.

Unexpectedly, Chi Yao uttered two words:

“No way.”

“Why not?” she argued unconvincingly, “Do you really want gifts that much? Our relationship doesn’t necessarily need to be expressed through gifts.”

Chi Yao glanced at her: “Because I want to give you one.”

Thus, in the time leading up to their birthdays, Lin Zhexia looked forward to what Chi Yao might give her while continuing to rack her brain over what to give him.

It’s hard to say what the difference is between turning “twenty” and “eighteen.”

There seems to be some.

Over these years, she seemed to have unconsciously gotten closer to becoming an “adult.”

That night, Lin Zhexia was scrolling through her phone in the dormitory, looking for gift ideas online, while Lan Xiaoxue was on the phone with her family.

Lan Xiaoxue wasn’t from this city, and when she talked on the phone, she had a slight accent, but being from the south, Lin Zhexia could roughly understand her: “Mom, you don’t need to send me anything. My dorm room is just so small; even if you send it, there’s no place to put it.”

“My roommate won’t eat it, so don’t worry unnecessarily. Even if they do eat it, a whole box of fruit will make us sick.”

“Alright, I know. I’ll take care of myself.”

“...”

Lan Xiaoxue had been very busy these days, and in fact, hadn’t eaten or slept well.

Their art department was recently hosting a plaster exhibition, and every day she returned to the dormitory with dark circles under her eyes, clothes stained all over, looking extremely haggard. Once back, she couldn’t help but complain about her advisor: “They just want us to be free labor... It’s not our responsibility, yet they force us to do it, and in the end, it doesn’t count as our work.”

At that moment, the others in the dorm indignantly stood up for her: “How can they do this? Can you file a complaint?”

“Forget it,” Lan Xiaoxue said, “It’s just helping out a bit. Let’s just get it done.”

The voice from Lan Xiaoxue’s earpiece was quite loud, and her mom’s voice was also loud. Lin Zhexia clearly heard her ask: “How’s your plaster exhibition going—”

Lin Zhexia paused her scrolling, then heard Lan Xiaoxue’s feigned relaxed voice: “It’s great. The exhibition is huge. I’ll send you a video when it’s done.”

Bad luck seemed contagious.

Soon, there was news in Lin Zhexia’s major too—a foreign language speech competition was being held.

Her professor, having heard something from somewhere, called her to the office during break and asked, “I heard you participated in the school’s speech competition before?”

“...”

Thinking of her glorious history of winning first place in high school, Lin Zhexia had to admit: “I did participate before.”

The professor coaxed her: “We happen to be short one person for this speech competition. Would you like to give it a try?”

Lin Zhexia wasn’t afraid, but she was simply worried that her proficiency level might drag the class down: “Maybe you should give this precious opportunity to someone else.”

The professor suddenly called her name loudly: “Lin Zhexia!”

“I’ll give you another chance. Answer me again—do you want to give it a try?”

“...”

Judging by this attitude,

It seemed unavoidable.

Finally, Lin Zhexia nodded: “Then I’ll give it a try.”

The university speech competition was different from high school—it was more free, with no set topic; everything could be freely improvised, style unlimited. The only requirement was to use the language of their major.

The professor grouped all participants into the same chat group.

Thus, Lin Zhexia started juggling two tasks—preparing for the birthday and choosing a topic for the speech, drafting a simple outline.

A week before the birthday, a small incident occurred.

They were supposed to submit their initial drafts in the evening. Half a day before submission, Lin Zhexia encountered a classmate who was also participating—a short-haired girl who appeared very cheerful and offered: “Should I help you submit it tonight? That way, we don’t have to run around later.”

Lin Zhexia happened to have other urgent matters that evening, so she said: “Then I’ll trouble you with that.”

While handing over the draft, Lin Zhexia caught a glimpse of the title on the short-haired girl’s paper—”Dreams.”

However, by evening, the professor tagged her in the group chat.

Lin Zhexia,

• Your topic overlaps with another student’s. Please submit a new one.

Lin Zhexia was momentarily stunned upon seeing the message.

Instead of asking in the group, she privately messaged the professor: Whose topic did mine overlap with?

Professor: Zhou Tong. Didn’t you both submit your drafts together? As soon as I saw them, I realized your topics were the same.

...

The face of the short-haired girl flashed in Lin Zhexia’s mind.

She instinctively typed out a string of words to explain: I accidentally saw her topic earlier, and it was definitely different from mine…

But halfway through typing, she deleted each word one by one.

This matter likely wouldn’t lead to any resolution. She couldn’t explain, nor did she have concrete evidence. It seemed that growing up brought along many such “indescribable” incidents.

Lin Zhexia thought.

Rather than spending time arguing, it was better to rewrite.

After all, it was just an initial draft. Writing a new topic would suffice.

That evening, she went to have dinner with Chi Yao.

Poking at her bowl of rice, eager to return to the dormitory to write a new topic, she quickly said: “I’m full.”

Chi Yao was surprised by her appetite today: “You’re eating so little today.”

Lin Zhexia: “What about it?”

Chi Yao glanced at her bowl of rice and said nothing.

Lin Zhexia continued: “We girls have small appetites, which is normal, right?”

Chi Yao lightly sneered: “Normally you eat two bowls of rice. Now you talk about having a small appetite?”

“...”

“Anyway, I’m full,” Lin Zhexia put down her chopsticks. “If you’re dissatisfied, then eat another bowl yourself.”

She acted as if nothing was wrong.

But there was always an unexpected mutual intuition between her and Chi Yao.

Chi Yao moved his gaze away from the bowl in front of her and asked: “Are you upset?”

Lin Zhexia: “...I’m perfectly fine.”

Chi Yao asked again: “Did you finish writing the speech draft?”

Lin Zhexia hesitated for a second.

She could have told him about the overlapping topics.

But the difference between being twenty and eighteen was that she also knew she needed to truly grow up.

Since childhood, Chi Yao had always been the person she could rely on unconditionally.

No matter what happened, she could tell him.

Things she couldn’t tell Lin He, she could tell him—even without considering whether what she did was right or wrong.

She originally intended to complain to Chi Yao about the short-haired girl named Zhou Tong. But just as the words were about to leave her mouth, inexplicably, she thought of how Lan Xiaoxue sounded on the phone with her family the other day.

Despite being exhausted, she still said she was “fine.”

Perhaps harboring the same feelings as Lan Xiaoxue, within this brief second, she chose another option.

Lin Zhexia finally said: “I just submitted the initial draft and need to continue writing. There’s no big problem. You keep eating; I’ll head back first.”

Lin Zhexia, due to rewriting a new topic, worked tirelessly for several days straight.

During these days, whenever Chi Yao invited her to meet, she said she was busy.

Her replies to his messages were perfunctory.

Boyfriend: Writing the speech draft?

Lin Zhexia: Mm

Boyfriend: I’ll be done with class soon.

Lin Zhexia: Mmmhmm

Just a few “mm”s.

Chi Yao quickly sensed something.

After a while, he sent another message.

Boyfriend: Lin Zhexia is an idiot.

Lin Zhexia had already written herself dizzy. Without carefully reading what Chi Yao had said, she absentmindedly sent a few more “mm”s.

...

By the time she realized, more than ten minutes had passed.

That conversation quietly lay in the chat box.

As she was thinking about sending something to salvage the situation, two words popped up in the chat box: Come downstairs.

These two words were familiar.

It felt like she had received them countless times before.

Lin Zhexia knew she couldn’t hide it anymore. Slowly, she changed out of her pajamas, grabbed her keys, and ran downstairs.

This was the peak hour after evening classes, and there were many people at the girls’ dorm entrance.

She squeezed through the crowd and immediately spotted the person waiting at the intersection.

Chi Yao stood under the street lamp, handing her a bag of fruit he had casually bought from a nearby fruit shop while passing by. Coolly, he said, “Explain.”

“I’ll explain,” Lin Zhexia took the bag of fruit, “I was so absorbed in studying that I didn’t notice.”

“Do you think I’d believe that?”

“...”

Probably not.

This person was harder to fool than Lin He.

Lin Zhexia cautiously said, “...I think my excuse is quite reasonable. Maybe you’d believe it for a moment.”

After a while, Lin Zhexia surrendered: “Alright, I’ll tell you the truth.”

After all, it wasn’t a big deal and there was nothing she couldn’t say.

“The initial draft I submitted last time had a topic that overlapped with someone else’s. She helped me submit it together, and on the day of submission, I clearly saw her topic was different from mine.”

Lin Zhexia briefly recounted the events: “So recently, I’ve been busy rewriting.”

Unconsciously, she clutched the bag of fruit tighter as she spoke: “I think we’re all adults now. And you’ve been busy lately too. I can handle this matter on my own.”

Chi Yao looked at her, silent for a long time.

Just as Lin Zhexia wondered if he was angry, Chi Yao lowered his eyebrows, raised his hand, and gently poked her forehead with his index finger, scolding her again with “idiot.”

Lin Zhexia softly protested: “I’m not an idiot, and you’ve already scolded me twice today.”

“If you’re not, who is?”

Chi Yao clicked his tongue. His voice mingled with the cicadas buzzing around, and a gust of wind blew through the muggy summer night. “...If you digest everything on your own, then what’s the point of having a boyfriend?”